The Chinese Angle

Prologue

Ever since I was young there is one verse in the Bible that sticks foreword in my mind. I can't rightly recall how the Almighty works his way into it but He ends up saying something about how "We are fearfully and wonderfully made in the image and likeness of God". There's no logical reason why that particular verse, out of nearly a lifetime of Sunday's should stick out but it does. It's just about the only one I do remember on a regular basis. Thinking of it makes me see my Momma reading that verse to me from her old tattered family Bible. In truth, if not for her, I probably would have gone my life without actually opening the book up. I can picture Father Tarry preaching the words to me. They come to me now, in a time and place where they could hardly be of much use.  

The making of babies you will find is something that nearly everyone in the world knows about and participates in regularly. We don't hardly ever consider the act as something quite so....creative though. When I was making mine, I know the last thing I was thinking on was the life being formed. Being "fearfully and wonderfully made" immediately gives one the impression of work, labor and actually creating something out of clay or jello molds. One gets the feeling He takes His end of the job a good deal more seriously. And good on Him too. I picture a large bearded man feverishly toiling over a work table, assembling something akin to a china doll, fragile and breakable.  

You see, that what I thought He meant by "fearfully". I, at first, thought He meant that He didn't want to drop none of us on our heads on our way down to earth. Make sure all the important bits were accounted for: Yo, Michael, you got two eyes? Two eyes all set to go, Bossman. Mary, luv, could you hand me that power of speech over there? That sort of thing. Who wouldn't double check to see the job's done right? I do in my work. But we're not quite up to that.  

Recently, as I have had time, and in my position, I've had a good deal of it, I've noticed that maybe, sine he's God and all, his worries were a little more complex. Based on recent experiences, it's come to my attention that perhaps sewin' the bits on properly ain't the problem. We, as human beings, which I am assuming, most of you reading are, are given free will. Humanity the act of being human and free will go together like Louis Armstrong and a trumpet. So, maybe when God sends us off the thing He really fears is what we're capable of. Yes, have a good laugh if you wish. It sounds extraordinary, I understand. But who else would understand it as fully as He? Not even I know exactly what ii myself am capable of, not even to mention what the rest of the world's population is up to. Why do you think all the women go to these psychics or psychotherapists, or priests? We could spend all our lives trying to figure it out and still get nowhere.  

God gave us the capacity to do wonderful things: run, laugh, cry, love, hit a home run or even fly an airplane. But he also knew this works both ways, this thin blue line between love and hate, ambition and greed, adoration and cruelty, is very blurred. And no nothing can stop us from going over to one extreme to the other.  

People fear what they don't know, I fear what I don't understand and what I can't figure out. We all have that unknown in us that blurs lines, which can be crooked: heading towards strength on one stretch and sticking firmly to weakness in another. I learned this too late in life, as these words will spell, though I don't regret it and now, all that is left of a life I once thought clear cut, simple and cruising on Easy Street, is a mess of mistakes, screw-ups, laughter, joy and triumphs.  

This ain't some downer tome, meant to make your head hurt and your eyes swim. It's mean as a joke, to make you chuckle to yourself in inappropriate areas, like libraries, church or late night bus stops. The people in it are humorous, like a flimsy wisp of smoke left from the traces of a cigarette, yet with a sharp after scent you'll never quite shake. I'm not writing this to make a point for I'm not sure there's one to be made by it, least no one that shows us to our best. This is a screwed up view of things, a Chinese Angle.  

Chapter One

Around about the beginning of this book, I was launched well into what most people call the middle age crisis. I was a bit of a late bloomer, so I was well into my fifties when it hit, and perhaps it didn't really fall into the typical category. You see I was attempting a career change. Attempting one, because I was having some difficulty finding another line of work. Actually, I hadn't really got off the couch to start to look.